Later that night, the Wangan was bustling with racing enthusiasts, hoping to catch a glimpse of the race that was about to go down. It was two years ago that the Blackbird beat out the White Comet of Akagi. Before that race, Ryousuke beat out Tatsuya. The tiebreaker would’ve been settled a year ago when Ryousuke made his yearly trek to Tokyo. Unfortunately, however, the 911 was in the shop, recuperating from a shattered turbo housing due to one of the greatest rivalries on the Wangan between Tatsuya and Akio Asakura, the pilot of the Devil Z, which had gone missing a month before the return of Takahashi. Rumors were circulating, from the idea that he went to the United States to compete in the Silver State Classic outside of Las Vegas, to him crashing on the Hakone pass on one lonely morning, even to such fringe rumors as the one that stated that Asakura had become possessed by the car’s spirit and had driven it into the sea with him in the driver’s seat. There were many, many more rumors circling around, but nowadays the Wangan seemed like a totally different place without him.

On the Shinkanjyo exit of the Wangan, the race had started between the FC and the 911 Carerra. The acceleration of the two was almost instant, as they leaped from 150 to 300 kilometers per hour in under four seconds. Both cars tore down the longest road in Japan at around 350 kmh. If Ryousuke had come with his regular FC, this race would be already over, but instead of running his usual 280-horsepower 13B rotary, he had dropped in a custom-built drivetrain that he designed himself. The engine was another 13B, but a rotary specialist out of Gunma had set up this specific 13B. Naturally aspirated, the highly modified twin-rotor engine made over 350 horsepower and the setup could handle upwards of 1000 boosted horsepower. Normally, anyone would be okay with this, but Ryousuke wanted more for the highways, so he opted for a large, drag-race style single turbocharger that fed into a massive intercooler. Overall, this combination generated over 500 horsepower. This power was so much that the engine had to be mounted using 1/4” steel plating on the front and rear of the engine. Behind that monster engine sat a six-speed transmission built by Project.D as a precaution for potential highway battles. It had been used only once in Keisuke’s FD, so it was already broken in for this race. With the power flowing through the carbon driveshaft, it ended up reaching the bulletproofed rear end center housing modified from an American drag racer application. Finally, the power was transferred to the huge 12-inch wide Michelins tires on a set of Work CR Kai rims. This was the setup that Ryousuke utilized for high-speed runs, and it was a fearsome combination. By the time they reached the first set of tunnels, both cars were at 300 kmh. At these speeds, the once heavy steering in both cars was awakened, and was being engaged for high-speed lane changes. “He’s still very good,” Tatsuya thought with his foot still being held in check, waiting for the “all clear” moment, “Almost as good as he was when we ran as the Midnight Club six years ago.” As they reached the end of the tunnel, traffic continued to thicken. Both drivers ended up slowing down to a little over 260. By this point, Shima was out in front by two carlengths.

The two racers had reached the halfway point, and were approaching the bridge, when the traffic suddenly ended. “Now,” Shima thought, as he slowly pushed the throttle to the floor. Ryousuke, whose gas pedal was also in the carpet, drifted over into the 911’s lane in order to get into Shima’s slipstream. As he did so, the distance between them shortened. By the last half-mile, he was on Shima’s bumper, ready to pass at 340 kmh. Tatsuya pulled over to the right to block him. “Not on my watch, Takahashi!” Shima thought. “Just as I predicted,” Ryousuke said, swinging back over to the left as the Carerra let off the gas, noticing that traffic began to thicken once again up ahead with only a quarter mile left to go.

Out of seemingly nowhere however, came two sets of headlights rapidly approaching the drivers. Ryousuke and Tatsuya were doing about 225, and were climbing up in speed. The two others were doing at least 30 kmh faster than Takahashi and Shima. They got over to the right lane just in time to let the two pass them. Shima, who was the first to see the racers, was in shock. The car nearest to him was a Midnight Blue 240Z doing around 300 kmh. “D-Devil Z!” he said to himself. After the Devil Z passed, the second car came into view. It was a white Subaru Impreza STi. The body was low to the ground due to the body kit and suspension. The original rear wing was replaced with a large, GT-type monstrosity, and the vortex generator that was common of the Lancer Evolution IX was also on its roof. The car was behind the Z, and it seemed like it wasn’t losing that much distance. “Who the hell is that?” Shima said to himself as he slowed down to pull off to the side. Takahashi, who saw the two who passed him, also brought his car to a stop. Both men got out, and walked towards each other, speechless. They didn’t believe what they had just saw; the Devil Z was back, and it was racing a similarly mysterious car of equal caliber.

The two then got back into their cars, and without a word from either, they headed down the road to see if they could find the racers. “Who was that?” Ryousuke thought, as he re-played the shot of the white Subaru flying past him with the exhaust shooting fire as it passed the Devil Z. To him, he couldn’t help but think that it was someone he knew. As they continued on, the two saw the Devil Z and the mystery car parked at a rest area. Next to the two, however, was a blue 180SX with a whale-tail spoiler similar to the one on Blackbird’s 911. “So she’s also running here as well as on Fuji, huh?” thought Ryousuke, realizing who it was now.

Pulling into the lot, the FC and 911 were looking as if they belonged in the lot with the other exotic sports cars. Walking out of the rest stop was a beautiful woman. Her long hair was down to the small of her back. She was wearing white slacks, a tight turtleneck, and Pumas. Turning to head to her 180SX, she caught a glimpse of Ryousuke. “R-Ryosuke-san?!” she exclaimed, “What’re you doing here?!” “So it is you, Satou Mako,” Ryousuke replied back with a grin, “I was wondering where I saw that 180.” “Well, Sayuki’s letting me borrow it for transport,” Mako said, walking over to her car, “She told me that I had to come back with a 300-horsepower red-top SR20DET in it before I came back to Gunma.” “I’ve got a question,” Ryousuke said, as Mako’s head turned up to look at him, “Was that you in that white GC8?” “Yes,” Mako replied, “It’s not mine, however.” “Whose car is it, then?” Tatsuya replied. “It’s my crew chief’s car,” she replied, “He had it tuned by a high-level tuner, oh, what’s his name?” “It’s Kitami Jun,” a voice familiar to Blackbird said, “You sure did have me there, Mako. I was barely holding back.” “Asakura,” Shima said with a cold stare directed at his rival, “It’s been a while, hasn’t it.” “I believe so,” Akio replied with a similarly fierce look. “What the hell did you do to your Fairlady?” replied Tatsuya. “A bit of lightening and a new roll cage, along with the power boost,” Akio retorted. “How much?” Shima shot back at Akio. “It’s around 850 horsepower now.” “850?” Ryousuke thought, “That’s suicide!” “Where have you been, though?” Shima replied. “Why don’t you come on in and I’ll tell you about it?” Akio replied. Both men along with Mako headed on inside to hear the tale.

So yeah, I've decided to update once again, and since Christmas is only 2 days away...OMFG DOUBLE UPDAETZ!!!

Chapter 8: Barn Find

Going into the small rest stop, the group sat a table, which had another resident of the Wangan; Devil Tuner, Kitami Jun. “Well, well,” Jun stated, looking at Ryousuke, “It’s the great Ryousuke Takahashi. S’been a while.” “A year now, I guess,” Ryousuke said, “I should be about ready to head into Tokyo soon.” “Are you still interested in my new project?” Jun stated. “As long as it has a rotary, I’ll manage,” Ryousuke replied, as the waitress came by to get their orders, “Is it still going to be the one you’ve been working on?” “It’s right now in its final stages,” said Kitami, “Both engines now run in perfect synchronization. Do you still want to use the ITBs?” “It should,” Ryousuke said, “If this car is going to keep its theme.” “Hey, it’s your car,” Kitami replied, chuckling, “I’m just the tuner.”

“Enough with the small talk,” Tatsuya directly stated, “Where exactly were you, Asakura?” “Hokkaido,” Akio declared, “Kitami-san sent me up there to do some throttle training on their rally course along with me hunting down two rare cars for him. I’m pretty sure that you’ve heard of barn-finds, right Tatsuya?” Shima and the rest nodded as the story rolled on, “Well, as I was saying,” Asakura continued, “There were these two mint barn-find cars. They weren’t really valuable, or anything, but they were definitely not common to the area up there.” “Where did you find these cars?” Ryousuke said. “In one of Kitami-san’s friend’s garage,” Akio stated, “He had recently passed away from natural causes. This guy was the biggest rally racer on the island. He had even bought a private villa on top of one of the mountains there as his summer house. This guy had gotten sponsors from big-name companies to race their cars for him. He had acquired many cars over his lifetime of racing. He had up to ten cars at once. At the end of his life, however, he only had three. The two barn finds, plus a small Daihatsu Midget he used to drive down into the village.” “So,” Shima said, “What types of cars were they?” “Don’t worry,” Akio said, “I’m getting to it. This guy wasn’t the most sentimental person in the world, so he sold off most of his trophy-winning cars. He did, however, keep his first and last ones.

“The first car he had owned was a 1968 Nissan Bluebird SSS of which he had won over twenty championships with. It was his first car that he bought when he was eighteen. It was used for his first ten years as a rallyist. At the end of its first life, it had 150 horsepower produced from its original four cylinder.” “What do you mean first life?” Ryousuke asked. “Well,” Akio stated, “After about, I dunno, fifteen years of use as a daily driver, the owner decided to completely overhaul it. He started off with including many new parts from the newer Nissans. He put in a total drivetrain from a close to brand new Nissan Silvia S13 that had been wrecked by some poor sap who put on a ridiculous bodykit and painted the car brown. After doing so, he asked Kitami-san to tune the Bluebird’s new power plant to around 240 naturally aspirated horsepower and set it up perfectly for Hokkaido’s downhill rally trial course. It apparently still held the record for downhill until a few years ago when someone named Keioichi Jinryu devastated the original record in a 500-horsepower ultra-lightweight AWD S14 by fifteen seconds. The old-timers didn’t want it to stay up, but Jinryu stated that he could beat it with his other S-chassis car.” Ryousuke was taken aback from this statement; Project.D’s downhill banzai ace was going to race this guy later that week, “Everyone, including Keioichi knew how unfair that was, but they never admitted to it until the Bluebird was put into storage.”

“So it was retired,” Mako said, “How about this second car?” “Oh, the second one?” Akio replied, “Yes, well the second car was this man’s ultimate dream car. After twenty years of professional racing, he had hung up his helmet for good. He wanted something a little tamer that his usual Spartan rally cars. He decided to go with a little more luxury and as much if not more power. He ended up purchasing a black Mercedes Benz 190 Evo II. Stock, this car came with around 250 horses, but naturally, he wanted it to go faster. Once again, he called up Jun, and he did his magic. The car ended up putting down 450 horsepower on low boost. It was his highway runner and uphill driver. Out of the two, that one was the best looked-after. It didn’t have rust, dents, or any sign of damage whatsoever.” “But that still doesn’t excuse you for being gone for a month,” Tatsuya stated. “Oh, I was helping with the restoration of the Bluebird to its Mark II state,” Asakura said, “Kitami-sensei told me that it’d be a good experience for me.” “Well, that seemed to tie up all the loose ends,” Kitami Jun said, standing up, “now if you all will excuse me, I have to return this car to Mako-chan’s chief.” He headed out, got into the Subaru and headed back towards Tokyo. “I’ll never get used to that guy,” Ryousuke said to Tatsuya. “He is a God at mechanics, however,” Shima said, “It’s getting pretty late, so I’m gonna head out.” “Me too,” Asakura said. “I’ve gotta go, too,” Mako chimed in, “Big race on Friday.” “Same here,” Ryousuke thought, realizing that his next race would be D’s last.

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Chapter 9: Qualifying Day

The day was Friday at around 2 PM. The interior of the FC was lined with thin, blue & silver aluminum cans. It had been a twelve-hour journey after he left Tokyo at around 12 AM. In an attempt to make good time, Ryousuke had stayed up all night, drinking over a dozen Red Bulls, blasting down the superhighways at over 190 km/h to get to Hokkaido. As soon as he got to the Hokkaido racecourse, he collapsed onto the steering wheel as soon as he shut the engine off. The first thing that Ryousuke remembered when he woke up was the sound of his brother Keisuke’s fist pounding on the door. With Ryousuke not moving after having tapped lightly on the window, Keisuke kept pounding louder until the entire car was being shaken. This had seemed to wake up the sleeping beauty on a severe caffeine hangover of sorts, if you could call it that. Putting his Recaro seat up into its upright position revealed to Keisuke the horror of his brother who had gotten only two hours of sleep. His eyes were sunken in, he had a five-o-clock shadow, his eyes were bloodshot, his white button-up shirt was stained with the yellow from last night’s Red Bull binge, and his hair was a terrible mess.

“Whazzit?” Ryousuke said groggily. “D-Contender’s gonna do an all-out run!” Keisuke said impatiently, “They’re gonna start soon! C’mon! We can gather so much more data on their home course performance!” “Now why in the hell would I want to see that?!” Ryousuke said irritably. He then remembered what Asakura said last night about how Keioichi, their downhill ace, was able to blow the doors off of the deceased local rallyist of the area, “Wait, forget what I just said. When’ll Keioichi be running?” “In about two minutes, man!” Keisuke yelled, “C’mon!” Ryousuke, without changing or doing anything to make himself seem presentable, quickly shoved the door open, almost hitting Keisuke in the process, and nearly ran to the track. As he was standing at the side of the track in all his Red Bull-stained glory, the sound of a high-strung, yet naturally aspirated four-cylinder came roaring down the pass. Where Ryousuke was sitting was a crucial point in the course where seconds could be shaved off. It was at the bottom of a sharp upturn in the course. About fifty yards from the jump was a medium right turn. The area at the top of the mound was worn from many a tire track running over it. The twenty-five yard section after it, however, was almost nonexistent of any sort of abuse from the past hour long downhill practice run except for a few tire tracks of those not brave enough to jump the hill.

As soon as its buildup came, the sound reached its climax, when the sight of an apeshit-fast 180SX catching over forty yards of air came into view. The car seemed to fly terribly crooked, with the back end out of line with the front. “Why the hell is he doing that?” Ryousuke said, suddenly realizing why, “That’s why!!” As soon as it came, it was gone. “It’s amazing, isn’t it?” one of the locals said, “No one can beat Keioichi on this course!” “You said it!” his friend said. “This is going to be the final battle of D?” Ryousuke thought, “This will be their hardest battle ever, making them use all they’ve learned, as long as learning much more than they ever had in the second half of D’s excursion.” “Here comes Nagato-san, guys!” another spotter said as the sound of another highly-tuned four came into earshot. Around the corner flew a white EK9. It had hit the clipping point with no problem, and had gotten all the way to the other side by use of an insanely fast four-wheel drift. “Wow!” exclaimed a spectator, “He’s gotta be upwards of 140 km/h!” As he crested the hill, he took off in a perfectly straight line, landing where only those over the hill had seen. “I’ve got to get back to see how the team’s doing,” Ryousuke anxiously thought, “Keisuke! We’re leaving to get to the downhill starting line!” “Got it!” replied Keisuke. The two men went off to their cars and headed up the hill on a paved access road.

Up at the beginning of the course, Ryousuke saw how many supporters they really had. Along with the six support vans, there were the multitudes of local racers from the Gunma area that were there in the parking lot. Along with them were others who were touched by D’s prowess. Kai Kogashiwa was there in his blue SW20, along with Wataru Akiyama and his cousin, who made the journey in the latter’s silver Altezza. Even the great and powerful Emperor made a showing. Ryousuke, not really able to focus on past rivalries, headed straight over to the van with Fujiwara’s 86. The hood was up as the 20V 4AG was running. “How’s everything going on over here?” he asked, straightening out his hair. “It’s going good,” the mechanic said, giving Ryousuke the printout of the chart of the Trueno’s last run. “Where’s Fujiwara?” Ryousuke said. “He’s in the van getting a drink.” As soon as he said this, Takumi came out of the van, bottle in hand. “Do you need me?” he said to Ryousuke. “Yes, Fujiwara,” Ryousuke said, “Do you remember the jump that has a turn right after it?” Takumi nodded his head, “I want you to try and take it on crooked. Got that?” “Understood,” Takumi replied. “Qualifying sessions will begin in five minutes!” The announcer said over the PA, “I repeat, five minutes.” “Alright team, gather around!” Ryousuke said as the members of D formed around their leader, “I want all of you to just keep up with your routines that you set up. If you guys drive the way you normally do, you ought to just make the qualifying time with no problems, so let’s get out there and get this done!” With that, the team broke back up and headed back to their stations. With the qualifying, there wouldn’t be that much of a challenge, but come race day, there would be.

“Driver, are you ready?” yelled the flagman to a helmeted Fujiwara. Nodding back in assurance, the flagman began the countdown. As soon as he reached zero, the 86 exploded off the line. Takumi, whose throttle control had increased substantially, was able to launch the car at its full potential on the dirt roads. Pulling up to the first turn, Takumi used a feint drift to get through the right hand corner. The Scandinavian flick that took place was pure poetry to the die-hard car nuts that were watching this show. Kicking up a plume of dust and dirt from the rear of the car, the little Trueno’s nose was mere millimeters away from the apex of the curve. When it had gotten to this point, Takumi stepped on the gas, and brought the car back out from under itself. The sound of the twin-cam 4 cylinder exploded in pitch up to a high revving noise, and then slightly back down as Takumi balanced the car’s movement out with the clutch and gas pedal. Coming out of the turn, Fujiwara’s rear bumper had gotten so close to the safety fencing that it actually bent back one of the rebar posts holding it in place.

Driving through the rest of the course didn’t seem like much of a challenge to Takumi, who had already adapted to the situation quite nicely. “The next turn we’ll be hitting the first jump,” Fujiwara stated in his mind, “I’ve got to hit it straight on. This jump lands onto the longest straightaway of the course.” Coming out of the turn, the 86 balanced itself out, and then carefully but rapidly reached its terminal velocity. Cresting the hill, the front tires lost their foundation. A millisecond later, the back tires were in the same situation. At the height of the parabola, Fujiwara had to have been about five meters above the ground, and thirty out from the foot of the ramp. The plume of debris behind the car was still trailing after the car had become airborne. Many drivers who experience airtime for the first time would be panicky and might do something drastic, like snap the steering wheel to one side, or hit the brakes, causing the car to land on its side or act like a lawn dart, crashing to the earth nose first. Fujiwara, however, kept the wheel straight, and his foot on the gas. His landing was textbook; the front end was still slightly up in the air, allowing the rear wheels to land on terra firma first. The front wheels followed just microseconds after the rear. After the landing, the car rocketed forward to the next corner.

Continuing through the course, Takumi kept the car planted firmly on the loose gravel. He was running in what many thought was his all-out driving style. Inside the car, however, Fujiwara held back a lot. He was only running at ninety-five percent capacity. He was trying many different techniques that he had practiced on that access road in Haruna. He even was using the one-handed steering technique he picked up in Ibaraki. It seemed to work really well while driving on these dirt roads. The 86 seemed to respond almost as if it was on ice. This new surface did have its unique qualities, however. Fujiwara realized that the area where the racing line was most taken was a lot better when it came to gripping the road. All the dirt was packed down, so there was no need of worrying how wide the angle should be in fear of flipping the car on a loose patch of gravel over a pothole. Along with the packed dirt, Takumi also had to get used to the feeling of going this fast on the dirt. The track’s layout was much more like Haruna’s long straights with little to no hairpins, so the bumpiness was intensified tenfold. The only two hairpins on the course however, were paved over, which caught Fujiwara by surprise. It was as he could change from a more restrained dirt style of driving discipline to his more comfortable ability of pavement driving. The segment was very short, however. He got back on the dirt, and instantaneously got back into a dirt mentality. It seemed like the rest of the run would be a no-problem pass, or so it seemed.

Back at the pits, a cold wind from the oncoming storm front made everyone who wasn’t a local get their coats. “Forecasts for tonight in the Hokkaido prefecture are for medium to heavy snow,” the public radio warning system said, “expect from 8-30 centimeters of snow with gusts at 25 knots. 100% chance of precipitation” “Ya hearing this forecast, Keisuke-san?” Kenta said, sitting by the team’s portable heater. “Yeah,” Keisuke retorted, drinking a cup of coffee, “They say it’ll clear out by tomorrow morning.” “I hope so,” Kenta said, “This would be a dog tomorrow night for practice.” While the skies were graying, Ryousuke was just finishing getting himself presentable. His earlier frenzy to see the run of the local ace had him looking like a thirty-something dork that never left his parents’ basement for anything but his next resin-model woman or hentai DVD. Walking out from the bathroom, he ran into his rival, Kyouichi Sudoh of Emperor.

“I was coming over here to tell you something important,” he said to Ryousuke as he leaned against his Evo III, “You’d better watch out for Makoto-san.” “Why do you say that?” replied Takahashi. “He and I both graduated from Todou School at the same time,” Sudoh stated, crossing his arms, “He ended up being at the top of the class. Compared to him, I look like a total slacker. He’s even better than Tomo-san was when you raced him. If I were planning a strategy to defeat this guy, I’d lump Makoto in with Tomoyuki, or even God Foot. Hell, I’ve even heard that he’s going to get a job racing in the WRC as soon as next spring.” This was something that Ryousuke hadn’t heard yet, but it really didn’t seem that this would terribly alter his plans. “Is that all?” Ryousuke said irritated. “That’s it,” Kyouichi said, “Just want you to know.” With that, Kyouichi got back into his Evo III and headed down the paved access road into town. “This really does change my original strategy,” Ryousuke thought, walking back to the pit area, “I developed a scenario for both snow and clear race conditions, but not for someone on such a high professional level. I’ll have to think that over while we set up the cars.”

At the pits for the uphill, the setup on the FD was complete. The crew had gone over to the finishing area to watch Takumi get through the line and begin the final diagnostics. Going to the finish line, Ryousuke saw the gang watching as the 86 made its way around the final turn. “Good,” Fumihiro said, looking at the stopwatch, “He’s twelve seconds ahead of the minimum time limit.” Going through the turn however, the 86 suddenly took a hard dive on the front wheel that was holding the car up. “What the hell?!” Takumi thought as he dived downward. Instinctively, Fujiwara gradually let off the gas and straightened the car out, “What the f**k was that?! I still can steer, but the left front has lost all response!” Outside, the diagnosis proved to be correct; the left front wheel was flailing around as the Trueno slowly crossed the line, still qualifying with three seconds to spare.

“What the hell happened?” Fumihiro asked Fujiwara as he got out of the battered Trueno. “I have no freaking idea!” Takumi said angrily, “It was just a freak break, that’s all I can think of.” “Well, the diagnostics don’t show anything too erratic,” the mechanic said, “Maybe its just that the 86 was slowly deteriorating from the abuse it was getting from all the rallying.” With the 86 parked, it was clear to what happened. The entire lower control arm had broken at the hinge, leaving the wheel to dangle. In doing so, the shock had been unceremoniously ripped from the shock tower. It was still repairable; alas the parts were not available to D in their immense supply. Even if they were, it’d require a welder, a donor Corolla to give up its shock tower, and a good alignment job. “We’re gonna have to find a donor car, Ryousuke,” Fumihiro said, “The thing is that it won’t show up until Saturday night at the earliest.” While assessing the damage, Ryousuke remembered something that was said to him last night. “Go ahead and get the donor car,” Ryousuke said, “I might have another option open, however.” “What option?” Takumi asked. “A car that could easily be our ticket for victory,” said Ryousuke. And with that, D was put into motion as dense and ominous gray clouds obscured the sunlight; it seemed that the team’s lucky man’s luck had finally ran out.

The writing in this one is niiiiiice. Good descriptions, one amusing comparison between Ryousuke's earlier appearance and a shut-in otaku, every paragraph shows clean writing, and all that other stuff.

After all the incidents with Fujiwara were cleared out, the track was set for Keisuke’s uphill qualifying run. Strapped in to his FD, the mechanics along with Kyoko gave him some last minute advice. “Try to take it easier than usual,” one of them said, “We don’t want another car breaking down on us.” “Anything else?” Keisuke said, starting the 13B. “Yeah,” Kyoko said, “don’t screw up, okay?” “Got it,” Keisuke said as he turned onto the track, leaving Kyoko to watch his launch. The FD took off from the start line with no problem at all. It was safe to say that this run wasn’t going to be based on luck or lack thereof; Keisuke was not going to let that happen.

In the small town on the other side of the hill, Ryousuke and Takumi began their quest to find the replacement car. “And you’re telling me that you just heard about this guy last night?” Takumi asked perplexedly. Ryousuke nodded in confirmation as they merged with the traffic. “I still think that this incident might seem like a bad break for you, but it’ll end up being just a small hiccup in this weekend’s race,” he said. As they were driving down the road, Takumi looked out the window as he usually does countless times when there was any silence that he knew would be a long silence. As the FC went down the road, Takumi could see that this storm wasn’t their first of the season up here in Hokkaido. The ground was cleared, but the piles of snow still left from the plows were still lingering; some of them around ten feet high. As he was watching the road go by, Takumi began to notice the snowfall starting. “Ah crap,” Ryousuke said, pushing the accelerator down harder, “Snow.” “Hey Ryousuke,” Takumi said, turning away from the window, “What exactly is this car I’ll be driving?” “You’ll see when we get there,” Ryousuke said mysteriously, “I think you’ll like it, Fujiwara.” With that comment, the cabin went silent again.

Back at the racecourse, the snow still hadn’t reached the track. By this time, Keisuke had crossed the line, setting a new course record in the process. The only thing left to do now was the cool-down and course diagnostic check. While they were doing so, someone from D-Contender came over to talk to Fumihiro. “Fumihiro-san!” he said. It was Reiji Matsuzaka, team mechanic, “I’m wondering if you guys have a place to stay tonight.” “Yeah,” Fumihiro said, “We’re staying at a local motel. Why?” “How about the cars?” replied Reiji, “They are predicting almost a meter of snow tonight.” “You’ve got storage?” Fumihiro guessed. Reiji nodded his head to confirm the assumption. “If you guys wouldn’t mind,” Reiji said, “We can also have you guys stay at the motel across form the garage to allow you guys better access to your cars, too.” “Sounds good,” Fumihiro said. He then turned to the team to make the announcement. “Alright guys! We’re going to head over to their garage to stow the cars away to make sure that we can get them outside tomorrow afternoon after the storm! Let’s move out! We’re following Reiji-san in his Legacy!” After saying that, D packed everything up and started the vehicles up like a well-oiled machine. They rolled out just as the snowfall began.

Further down the road in the mountains of Hokkaido, the white FC continued uphill to reach this mansion where the cars were stored as the light of day vanished. The snow was just getting heavy as they began the climb, and now it was getting worse with the snow beginning to stick to the roads. “We’re going to be up here for a while, Fujiwara,” said Ryousuke, as the lights of a large house came into view. It was a Western-styled house, most likely a Victorian-esque mansion. As they closed in on the home, they saw the massive garage. It wasn’t done up in the Victorian style of the house. As a matter of fact, it was a giant steel building that could easily fit twenty cars. “Man, Asakura wasn’t kidding,” thought Ryousuke, “This guy must’ve made a killing off of racing. I wonder what the new owner uses that garage for now?” As they pulled around to find a spot to park, a young man came out of the house and directed Ryousuke towards the garage. “I’m guessing that they want us to park in the garage,” Ryousuke said to Takumi, “They seem like they’ve been expecting us for a while.” Pulling around to the garage, the door began to open. At this point, a light coating of snow had covered the top of the FC. The light from the garage revealed that the original three cars were not the only ones in the garage. There were three other cars in the garage along with the two that were supposed to be there. These cars were all being worked on, either up on a lift, on jack stands, or with the hood open. The first car that grabbed the two newcomers’ attention was an R32 Skyline GTR. One of the front wheels was off, showing the massive aftermarket rotor behind the wheel. Next to that car was a white Nissan S14 Silvia on the lift that Ryousuke could’ve sworn that he saw before. The other, an MR2, was being worked on. In the corner, however, was a car that both Ryousuke and Takumi didn’t notice until they pulled in. It was a terribly small car. It didn’t have the lines of a typical Japanese car. As the FC pulled in next to it, its identity was revealed. “Peugeot 106 Rallye, huh?” Ryousuke thought, “Haven’t seen one of those in a while.”

Getting out of the car, Ryousuke walked over to the young man who pointed him in the right direction. “Hey there!” he said. He was about twenty-one, had medium-length hair down to his shoulders, and wore a Signal Auto t-shirt. “Tohru-san, I’m guessing,” Ryousuke said, raising his hand in friendship. “Exactly, Takahashi Ryousuke,” Tohru said, “I’m guessing you’re here to pick up the SSS, right?” Ryousuke and Takumi nodded. “So you’re the ace driver, right, Takumi-san?” Tohru asked. “Uh-huh,” Takumi said, walking over to the car. It was very old, at least fifteen years older than his Trueno. The dark blue body was very boxy. In the wheel wells was a set of wide classic rims. On the hood was a set of flat-black stripes that went down the length of the car. As he was looking over the hood, Fujiwara noticed the roof-mounted tachometer. The revs went up only to 8,000 RPM, unlike his Trueno’s insanely high 11,000 rev-limit. Popping the hood revealed the massively modified S13-era SR20DE. The blacktop motor was so clean that one could eat off of its valve cover. The intense heat that the engine’s exhaust had previously reached discolored the headers. On the other side of the engine was the familiar sight of a set of four individual throttle bodies. “This car,” Fujiwara stated, “It’s amazing. I think that it will do me very well this weekend against D-Contender.”

“Ryousuke-chaaaaaaaaaaaan,” a female voice said from the other side of the garage. Out of nowhere came an x-wrench flying inches away from Ryousuke’s face, embedding itself in the wall like a ninja’s shuriken. “That’s where I saw that car before,” Ryousuke said, holding his head in his hand, “Dammit Sawako!” “What the f**k are you doing here?” the woman yelled, walking into the garage. She wore a very, very short dress of red, almost revealing her underwear. Her exotic legs were covered in long black stockings, and she was wearing a pair of bright-red high-heeled shoes. Her hair was platinum blonde, very unusual for a Japanese woman. Her face would’ve been better looking if she wasn’t so drunk. “What the f**k?!” She yelled, stumbling over the carpet “You said that you’d call me, but you never did, didja, you scumbag?” “I can explain,” Ryousuke said calmly, “The week I got back from your place, I had finals for pre-med, so my mind was set on that and not on your unholy sex drive. After finals, I was a zombie, so I didn’t remember anything from the past moth except my studies and racing. That good enough for ya?” “I guess so-GONNA PUKE!” as soon as she said so, Sawako ran right to the bathroom faster than many people would drive, or so it seemed. The sound was absolutely unbearable, so Tohru decided to lead the two inside where it was warmer.

Walking out of the garage and into the foyer of the house, the two were taken aback by its size. “Wow,” Takumi said, “This place is big!” “That’s the type of money you can get racing with the big leagues,” Ryousuke said, “This was apparently just his summer house.” As the two talked, the sounds of an elegant piano wafted into the large entrance hall from the living room. “If my ears don’t deceive me,” Ryousuke said, “That’s Sari-chan’s piano-playing, right?” Tohru just nodded his head to confirm that Ryousuke’s speculation was factual. “Sari-chan?” Takumi said, confused at what was going on, “You know all these people?” “So that’s who it was who died,” Ryousuke said somberly. “Wait, what?” Takumi said, utterly confused about what was happening. Walking into the living room, Ryousuke and Fujiwara were able to set their eyes onto the grandeur of the room. The ceiling’s height had to be at least two stories. As you walked in, a large classical wooden fireplace that was crackling with the sound of a roaring fire greeted them. A large-screen plasma TV was above the fireplace, with last year’s Paris-Dakar Rally highlights playing. To the left and right of the fireplace were bookshelves upon bookshelves, just like an old-fashioned library, complete with rolling ladder just in case you needed something that was out of your reach. In the middle of the floor, facing the fireplace was a set of couches, chairs and a chaise. They were all made with dark, rich maroon leather, and two of the chairs had people in them; one short and fat man with a glass of whiskey on the table next to him. On the other was a much younger man with long hair who seemed to be reading the most recent issue of Option 2. On the opposite side of the room was a large, shiny black grand piano. At its bench was a young girl, who seemed very at place in this house, but would probably be awkward looking in the busy Hokkaido streets. She was excellently playing a variation of Pachbell’s Canon in D.

“Sari-chan?” Ryousuke said as the music stopped. The young woman turned around to face the young man. “Why hello there, Ryousuke!” she said gleefully, “I see that you’ve grown up a bit.” “Well it has been about six years since our last race,” Ryousuke said, “And I can see that Akaoka-sensei’s here too.” The short man raised his glass of whiskey up to reply back to Ryousuke. “So how’ve you been, Takahashi?” Akaoka said, turning around to reveal his countenance, red with the blood rushing to his head from the alcohol. “Pretty good,” Ryousuke said, “We’ve got a big race, and I was talking to Asakura about the two cars of Sari’s late father.” When he said this, Sari looked away. “I didn’t mean anything bad with it.” “I know,” Sari said, smiling back at Ryousuke. “So,” Akaoka said, “Which one will you be driving, Ryousuke-san?” “Oh it’s not me who’ll be driving,” replied Ryousuke, putting his arm around Takumi, “It’s my downhill ace’s job to drive.” “Ah, I see,” the other man, who was reading the magazine said, “So this is the legendary Fujiwara Takumi. I have been waiting for a while to meet you. Name’s Takao,” “It’s a pleasure,” Takumi said, confused about this statement. “I do have but one humble request,” Takao said, looking Fujiwara straight in the face, “I, want you to teach me how to drive like you do.” “Well, um, I…” Fujiwara wasn’t quite sure what to say, “I’ll have to see about that. I’ve got a big race this weekend. I’m not sure if I’ll have time.” “I can’t believe that you’re this popular even up here in Hokkaido, Fujiwara,” Ryousuke said to his counterpart, “Oh, and by the way, where’s Ryoko?” “Upstairs with Sawako playing Gran Turismo,” Tohru said, “Well, it does seem like you guys will be here for a while, so why not hang out for a while and we can have a little fun, huh?” It was hard not to deny such a request in their situation. The snow was already about three inches deep, and it was 8:45 already; no snowplow would make it up the mountain ‘til morning. It was going to be a long, yet fun night for all at the mansion.

* * *

Down the pass in the town, almost all of the rest of Project.D was getting ready to settle down in the hotel. Two however we’re in the garage going over statistics on the FD. Keisuke, who was looking outside, was thinking of how he could approach this situation, as Kyoko was looking over the suspension elements of the car to check for any unnatural wear in the joints. “Okay, let’s go over it again,” Keisuke thought as Kyoko was going to the bathroom in the back to wash up after checking the suspension, “Kyoko, I know that this probably won’t mean that much to you, but I am terribly sorry about what I did to you that night in Akagi. As I continued on in my journeys as an ace for D, I realized that I was being ridiculous thinking that I couldn’t hold a relationship with another. I was too dense to realize that you were the one on Akagi’s summit that night. I just hope that—Ah whom am I kidding? I can’t practice something like that!! It’ll sound terribly unintelligent if I sound like I rehearsed something. I’m gonna have to just go right up to her and say what I truly feel, right here, right now!” Keisuke straightened himself out, and began to walk towards the FD with confidence. When Kyoko came back from cleaning up, she walked over to the door in a attempt to open it up. “Ah crap,” she mumbled, “We’re snowed in.” She turned towards the FD and began to walk in a huff. “We can’t get out, Keisuke,” she said. “Kyoko Iwase,” Keisuke said, “I…I….” “You what?” Kyoko said, looking at Keisuke puzzlingly. “I’m…wondering about the FD’s state,” Keisuke said, knowing that he had just reached strike one in his final at-bat with the FD angel who once called him “Darling”.

“The state of the FD?” Kyoko said, both confused and a little disappointed, “It’s perfectly sound on all aspects right now. Is that it?” “I guess,” Keisuke said. “Dammit!” he thought, “That’s the second time tonight! I’ve got one more shot! Right here, right now!!!” “Well then, if that’s the case—” Kyoko said, being grabbed by the arm by Keisuke. “That’s not it,” Keisuke said, with his voice beginning to break, “I have something that I need to get off my chest.” “Oh really?” Kyoko said, bothered by Keisuke’s attitude, “Well if you’re gonna say something, say it quick! I’m gonna have to find a heater in this place somewhere and call Fumihiro-san.” “I realize that what I might say right now will have no effect on what happened between us,” Keisuke said nervously, “But I am terribly and honestly sorry about what I did.” “Oh, so now you say that!” Kyoko yelled, frustrated at his timing, “After all the time that I suffered? I was madly in love with you, Keisuke! You probably never were able to even show any affection to any girl, am I right?” Keisuke, thinking back, realized that all his past girlfriends were treated the same; as trophies of his manhood and nothing else. “Yes,” he replied weakly. “I come along, and what do you do?” Kyoko said, beginning to get more angry at Keisuke, “You realize that you found someone that you utterly and truly can associate and commiserate with, but according to you, relationships take time and money, and nothing else! Not trust of the other side or the other possibilities!” At this point, Kyoko had begun to cry, “You just shoved me away like all the other women in your life, stating that your only true love was racing!” “I never said—” Keisuke said, before being interrupted by a hysterical Kyoko, “You did say so! I swear, when you said that it could never be, I felt like I couldn’t ever go on! You said that you didn’t even want to see me at the races as a spectator! You don’t understand how much you hurt me, you jerk!” “Goddammit, Kyoko!” Keisuke said, “I’ve realized how f**king dense I was that night! I was so Goddamned obsessed that I didn’t realize what was right before me! If you think you’ve been hurting, when you gave me that lecture in the car that day I felt terribly inadequate! I felt as if I was nothing to you anymore! The difference is that I was able to put that behind me! I knew deep down in my heart and soul that you still truly loved me and that nothing I said would ever completely deter you away from me! If you won’t put what happened that night on Akagi behind you, then you are just too weak to be with me!” “Keisuke…san,” Kyoko whimpered, realizing what had just been said, “Darling!” She then began crying loudly as she fell onto Keisuke, who embraced her lovingly. “I’m sorry,” she said, repeating that phrase in between hysterical sobs. “It’s okay,” Keisuke said comfortingly, “I’m here, Kyoko, I’m here.” Kyoko, stopping her frenzied sobs, looked up at Keisuke with teared-up eyes. Keisuke, looking back at those eyes, knew exactly what she wanted. “Darling,” Kyoko whispered, “I love you.” “Same here,” Keisuke said, as they locked lips in a long kiss. Outside the snow continued to fall as the night continued on and melted into the dawn of Friday.

I'm quite curious as to how Takumi's new car will perform. And it's nice to see Keisuke and Kyoko getting along with each other again.And is it just me, or is this the only Initial D fic in existance where Kyoko actually showed any anger towards Keisuke for his earlier behavior?

I wonder when we'll get to know more about those new characters you introduced this chapter.

By 3 PM the next day, the road up to the mansion was finally plowed enough to make a run in the Bluebird. As Ryousuke, Takumi, and the rest of the residents walked into the garage there was a strange sense of majesty that was going around. The SSS was already idling, with white condensation emanating from the car’s exhaust. The SR20’s low rumble was unmistakable. As Fujiwara got into the Bluebird, the group was amazed. “I want all of you to watch Fujiwara’s movements,” Akaoka-sensei said to everyone who was present in front of him, “If you would all be so kind to go down to the third switchback at the halfway point, that would be excellent.” “Why there?” Ryoko said, confused about this request. “It’s the best place to watch Fujiwara-san make almost all of the rest of his run,” Ryousuke interjected, “Right now, with all the leaves off the trees, You might be able to watch him go all the way down from that point.” “Exactly,” Akaoka said, taking a drink from his flask. “Well, if Ryousuke-chan says that it’s the best place to watch,” Sawako said, “It has to be, right?” “Are you referencing about last night?” Ryousuke replied, “If that was the case, then you’re the expert in that domain. I am just a student to you.” “And such a good one at that,” Sawako said with a seductive look aimed at Ryousuke. “Ah God,” Tohru said, “I don’t even want to imagine that!” Sawako giggled at the comment. “Alright, what’re you waiting for everyone?” Akaoka said, “Get down there!”

After everyone else left, Akaoka began to talk to Fujiwara about the car’s unique qualities and aspects. “Fujiwara-san,” Akaoka said, “Now I want to tell you about how this car handles. It’ll be very similar to your Trueno, so—” “I’m better not knowing anything before I begin to drive a new car,” Takumi said in a deadpan tone, “It’s just the way I am. Please take no offense.” “None taken,” Akaoka said, walking away from the SSS. “He’ll be fine, Akaoka-san, really,” Ryousuke said assuring Akaoka that there really wasn’t any problem, “He’s got an amazing ability to take a disadvantageous situation and turn it in his favor.” Inside the Bluebird, Fujiwara began revving the engine. Popping the clutch, the small Nissan leapt forward with screaming tires ablaze. “This car,” Fujiwara thought as he began his analysis of this new car, “It launches like Iketani-sempai’s S13 if it was lighter.” Going into the first turn, Takumi also realized another characteristic of this car’s handling. “It’s still gripping!” Takumi thought, adapting his driving to the new car, “It must have the same suspension as Iketani’s S13, too!” Coming out of the turn and stepping on the gas, however brought a new trait to this car’s racing fingerprint. “It has its full power on right out of the turn!” Takumi reflected, “It’s like my 86 in that sense, so the throttle control will be very similar. I’m beginning to really like this car.” Going down the mountain, he began to find things that he could do with this car that he had done in the past. “This car’s amazing,” thought Fujiwara, “I wonder if I should try that.” “That” was the ski drift he had begun to do in his 86 a few weeks earlier. It was hard, but Takumi figured that he could easily accomplish this.

* * *

Downtown in the garage, Keisuke and Kyoko were just beginning to get up. Last night had saved their relationship, and now, they were beginning to realize what had just set in after a sleepless evening of hot and raunchy monkey sex. “You’re just as good in bed as you are on the road!” Kyoko said, putting her pants back on after getting up. “Will this affect your racing this weekend by any chance, Darling?” “Nah,” Keisuke said, splayed over the hood, exhausted from all the lovemaking, “I should be in good racing form by tonight. I’m just going to go into extreme focus that day, and I’ll probably act pretty dry towards you. Just remember that it’s temporary.” “Well that’s a relief,” Kyoko said, putting her shirt back on, which was draped over the yellow RX7’s hood, “Oh, and one more thing.” “Hmm?” Keisuke replied getting up from his laid back position. “You should put your clothes back on,” She said, giggling like a schoolgirl, “Imagine what would happen if Fumihiro saw y—” Both their heads turned at the sound of the door opening. “Shit!” Keisuke said, running to grab his clothes. “Yo, guys!” Fumihiro’s voice said, as he walked into the garage, seeing Keisuke, sans pants running around the room in a panic. “Ahh, hey Fumihiro-san!” Keisuke said nervously, “Long time no see? How’s everyone doing over there at the hotel?” “Okay, I guess,” Fumihiro said, eyeing the situation, “Why are you naked?” “Oh, why don’t you figure that one out for yourself?” Keisuke said angrily, looking for his pants. “Oh,” Fumihiro said, thinking about both Keisuke and Kyoko gyrating on the hood of the FD in fervent passion. “Don’t even think about it, Fumihiro-san!” Kyoko said, punching Fumihiro in the face. “Sorry!” Fumihiro replied, afraid of the wrath he may come across if he irritated Kyoko-chan any further.

“So, how’re the roads looking out there?” Keisuke said as they all sat around the space heater drinking cocoa that Fumihiro brought over. “The track’s going to be cleared for practice tonight, so we ought to be good for a couple of shakedowns before really getting into the course’s dynamics.” “Good,” Keisuke said, “How about Fujiwara? Is he going to be ready?” Fumihiro nodded in assurance. “Apparently Ryousuke-san told me that Fujiwara is feeling much more confident than he thought he would,” stated Fumihiro, “He’s been able to drive it almost exactly like his 86 after a few runs. He even showed some rookie drivers something that blew them away…”

* * *

At the halfway point’s hairpin turn, the drivers were waiting, though not patiently. “So when is this guy coming?” Sawako said, shaking from the cold, “I’m f-f-f-freezing out h-h-h-here!” “That’s what you get for dressing like that in sub-zero temperatures,” Takao said. “Could we please stop the fighting before he comes?” Sari said politely, “We’re here to watch Fujiwara-san’s run. I wonder how good he is.” “Yeah,” Ryoko said, “I’m very curious myself. He is, after all, a fellow Toyota driver.” “Says you,” Sawako said irritably, “If he doesn’t show in the next ten seconds I’m…” At that, Sawako stopped due to the sound of an engine angrily coming into earshot. Around the corner came a dark blue Nissan drifting with explosive kinetic energy at easily over 80 kph. “Holy—” said Sawako, blown away by this skill, “He’s not gonna make it!” “AHH SHIT SHE’S RIGHT!!!” Ryoko said in a panic, “HE’S GONNA GO OFF THE CLIFF!” At the last nanosecond, however, the SSS corrected itself, swinging the back end out the other way and flying into the turn. As the car perfectly executed a drift in the turn, both Sawako and Ryoko stopped panicking as they watched in awe as Fujiwara swung the car through the turn. “Scandinavian flick,” Sari said, “And if I’m wrong, please correct me, but isn’t this his first time in the Bluebird?” All three nodded in agreement. “He’s amazing,” Sari thought, “I might have to play with him sometime soon. I could learn a lot.”

At the bottom of the hill, Ryousuke and Takumi analyzed the car’s performance. “So how is it?” Ryousuke asked. “It’s great,” Fujiwara replied flatly, “I think I ought to be able to take Keioichi-san on this weekend.” “Good,” Ryousuke said, as both turned their attention to Akaoka-sensei and his group. “We cannot begin to say thanks for what you have offered us,” Ryousuke said, bowing to Akaoka. “Don’t mention it, kid!” Akaoka said, “Just remember to give it back in one piece, okay Fujiwara-san?” Takumi nodded, knowing the responsibility he had. “Well, it was nice to see you again, Ryousuke!” Akaoka said, “I wish you guys the best luck this weekend.” “Hey Ryousuke-chan; don’t forget last night this time, mmmkay?” Sawako said, blowing a kiss his way. “Takumi-chan,” Ryoko said, “If you wouldn’t mind coming back sometime soon, I’d love to learn how to drive from you.” “Ehh,” Fujiwara said confoundedly, “I’ll try my best.” “Knock ‘em dead, kid,” said Takao, “You can easily wipe the floor with those guys.” “I hope,” Takumi thought, knowing how hard the next round would be. After all the goodbyes, the two left in their cars, readying themselves for the rest of the weekend.

“…And that’s what happened,” Fumihiro said, “Oh and one more thing.” Keisuke looked up at Fumihiro, wondering what the request was. “Ryousuke-san wants all the drivers and mechanics to take the day off,” stated Fumihiro, “He figures that since we’re in Hokkaido, why not take in the sites?” “Sounds great!” Keisuke said, “Where do you wanna go, Kyoko?” “Uhh, I dunno,” Kyoko said, “I was thinking we could go to some of the fishing villages nearby here and catch an early lunch.” “You hear that, Fumihiro-san?” Keisuke said, “We’re going to the shore for a while. If you guys need me, gimme a call, alright? I shouldn’t be more than two hours away.” Fumihiro nodded his head. The two got into the FD, and headed out towards the shore. A little while later, Kenta came in to see where Keisuke was. “KEISUKE-SAN!” Kenta yelled, “I was thinking that maybe we could head on over to the arcade today!” Looking around after he had no response to his energetic cry, Kenta realized just what happened. “He’s already out, I guess,” he said, getting depressed, “I guess I’ll just go by myself then.” He then sulked back out to his S14 and headed out to the closest arcade.

After getting back to the garage that D called their home base, Takumi noticed that his old friends from Haruna had been patiently waiting out front. “What’re you all doing here?” Takumi said, surprised at the three’s presence. “Just guess,” Kenji said, “We wanna check out the new ride for the race!” “Okay,” Takumi said nervously, “But no free rides; I don’t want it getting scratched.” “Being a little protective of this car, aren’t we?” Iketani said. “Don’t say things like that Iketani-sempai!” Itsuki said, “You know this car is quite famous in the area; a local rallyist owned it.” “Even more reason for us to see it,” Kenji said. And with that statement, the four walked into the garage.

In the middle of the garage floor next to the FD sat the Nissan. It was terribly old; a very boxy car in design. Takumi, who had the key, walked around to the driver’s door and popped the hood. “Uwaah?” Itsuki exclaimed, “It’s like one of those European cars!” “Well they did take the design of the BMW 2002 and basically copied all of its mechanics before re-skinning it in their own bodywork,” Iketani said, “The Bluebird truly was a remarkable model, but the average Japanese consumer didn’t like it since it was pretty much produced as a way for Japan to attract foreign buyers.” “They didn’t like this thing?” Itsuki said, “It’s way too cool to think that it’s a pile of crap!” As all three looked into the engine bay, they all of a sudden became speechless. “No way!” Itsuki said, “An SR20DE with individual throttle bodies? Kuuuuuuuu!” “Is there any chance that you know the power on this engine, Takumi?” Iketani said, blown away by its immaculate condition. “They never dyno-tested it,” Takumi replied, “But I think that the man who we lent it from said it was detuned to around 250 horsepower.” “I’m afraid to ask, but what did it top out at when it’s fully unleashed?” Iketani asked. “300, I think,” Takumi said, “Yeah, that’s about right.” With that, the room looked up at Takimi with their mouths opened wide. “Why in the hell are you so lucky to drive such an amazing car?” Iketani said, “We’re nothing compared to this guy here.” “You’re right,” Both Itsuki and Kenji said. “Now hold up, guys!” Takumi said, trying to get the group’s hopes up, “Why don’t we stop thinking about racing for a while and just hang out for a day?”

After the group stopped gawking at the SSS, they headed out for the town to see what they could do until Fujiwara had to go back to the track that night. “I know!” Itsuki said, turning around to face the group who was walking down the town streets, “Let’s all do some karaoke and get trashed!” “Nope,” Iketani said, “I mean to the last part. We don’t want Takumi to get drunk and wreck that beautiful SSS, right?” “Right,” Itsuki said, realizing his mistake, “So karaoke is still good?” Iketani nodded reassuringly, “KUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU! KARAOKE IT IS THEN!” And with that, they headed down to the closest karaoke bar they could find.

Down the way from the Haruna racer’s karaoke club, Ryousuke Takahashi walked into a small side street bar. As soon as he walked in, he began scanning the bar for the person whom he was looking to catch up with. As he walked in, he saw a beautiful blue Chevrolet Corvette Z06 sitting outside, with the engine still ticking, cooling down from what seemed like a spirited run. Walking into the bar, Ryousuke took off his sunglasses and walked across the room to a table with a man wearing a leather jacket was seated. Across the room from him, the house band was playing some sort of mellow jazz tune. The saxophonist was the reason why this dive was so popular. His African complexion was a major contrast to the many Asians sitting around the stage. He played as if he was Clarence Clemons, Bruce Springsteen’s saxophonist. The acrid smell of secondhand smoke of many a kind lofted through the room along with the beautiful notes coming from the many instruments.

“So, kid,” the bartender said to Ryousuke, who sat at the bar before visiting this man, “What do you want?” “Gimme a scotch on the rocks,” Ryousuke said, giving the bartender the money. After getting his drink, Ryousuke headed on over to the table. As he approached the table, the man got up. “Ah, there you are!” he said in broken Japanese, “How you doing, Ryousuke-san?” The man was an older one, probably in his thirties or forties. His brown hair was extremely curly, and he had a large nose. He was an atypical Jewish gentleman. “I’m doing good, Goldman-san,” Ryousuke replied, shaking Goldman’s hand. “Ah that’s good!” he said, sitting down, “Sit down! Let’s enjoy the music a little before we start talking business!” As they sat down, they began listening to the saxophonist play an intricate solo on the saxophone. Hitting almost all the notes, he played a free-form jam that seemed to come out of nowhere. After this, they played another mellow tune. He’s good, ain’t he?” Goldman said. “The saxophonist?” Ryousuke asked. “Yes!” Goldman retorted, “That’s Jamal LeMuncie. He’s currently going to Juliard for a degree in Jazz Music Theory. They say he’s one of the best of the past ten years.” “How do you know about him so much?” Ryousuke replied once again. “It’s simple, my boy!” Goldman stated again, slapping Ryousuke on the back, “He’s the pro-driver I was talking about!” As soon as the news was relayed to him, Ryousuke stared at Goldman with an icy look.

“So this is the kid that beat Jimmie Johnson as an independent underdog at Watkins Glen last year in the Nationwide series race?” Ryousuke asked. Goldman just nodded his head in assurance. “As you know, my associates are very interested in Fujiwara for our new World Rally Championship team,” Goldman stated, “If he wins this weekend by over ten seconds, he’s got a shot with us, but he’s gotta beat LeMuncie in a race at Akina when the roads dry up and the temperature climbs this spring. We were going to have LeMuncie here race in the WRC, but he really wants to finish his musical career; it is his first love, after all.” “What about Keisuke?” Ryousuke said. “Oh he’s got as much skill as Fujiwara,” Goldman said, taking a drink of his Nippon beer, “But we only have one spot open on the team. I did hear that a team from Europe is interested in him. They wanted me to give you this.” Goldman gave Ryousuke a piece of paper. The only thing on it was an address and a note. The address took Ryousuke to a fancy restaurant outside of town near the race course. The note only had a simple description of an outfit, a car and a time written on it along with the writer’s name. “Look for me; I will be wearing a black dress, with platinum blonde hair. Come here by 5:30 PM, no later. I will be here in my AMG Black. -Sarah”

Anyway, another good chapter. Good dialouge, good character interaction, clear descriptions, and all that other stuff. The story's become even more interesting now. Can I have some MOAR?Welcome back BTW